


I'm not your God.

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Series: A Thousand Years [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aithusa - Freeform, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Awesome Freya (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Captivity, Dragonlord Merlin (Merlin), F/M, Family Feels, Good Mordred (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, Modern Era, Protective Gwaine (Merlin), Protective Knights (Merlin), Redeemed Morgana (Merlin), Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23697424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin's been taken, and the group are trying to get him back.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin)
Series: A Thousand Years [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706605
Comments: 109
Kudos: 344





	1. Captive

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back my dudes! If you haven't read Reunited, I'd suggest doing so, otherwise this won't make that much sense! 
> 
> Otherwise, happy reading!

He should have known that it couldn’t keep going well. Eventually, something had to come along and ruin the perfect harmony that had been made.

Merlin just couldn’t predict the extent of the damage, nor could he have anticipated how much it would hurt.

The thing about the cell he found himself in, was the dark. He hated the dark, always had, it reminded him of the loneliness of living for over a thousand years. In the dark, he had time to think, to muse over the many decisions he had to make in his lifetime. Decisions that had seen bloodshed and suffering, just as much as life and healing. Merlin had lived long enough to not always be the hero in the story.

The first couple of days were alright. His connection to Mordred had not broken upon his capture, so he could talk to the Druid. He found out that Freya had been injured, that she was no longer tethered to water. That they had stitched her up, and were searching for him. That Gwaine was threatening to kill everyone, that Aithusa was assisting them, that Eleanor had called in help from all over the Globe.

He told the Druid to tell the group he was fine, that he was in a comfy cell with food and water provided, but he was unsure what his captors wanted. Only one of these facts were true, he did not know why he was here. If Mordred suspected he was lying, he did not openly say anything. He merely suggested that Merlin try and ascertain what they wanted from him.

The cell had no door. No way to bring him food, no water to quench his thirst. The cell was a perfect square, he’d counted out the paces from one wall to the next on the second day, when he began to think that he might be down here for a while.

Whoever had put him down here, had got him in through solid walls. There was no draft, no doorway, no cracks in the perfectly sealed walls. They’d used Magic, he concluded, sitting in the darkness and shouting to see if anyone would respond. He hadn't been expecting a response, but it was still disappointing when the only answer he got was the echo of his own question.

Mordred kept him informed, over the first two weeks, of every single movement. Merlin stayed, with his back to the wall, ignoring the pain in his stomach as he starved to death every time, then was born again, and the cycle repeated. Technically, he supposed it was the dehydration that was killing him, but he didn’t dare think too long about it.

He had died before, in ways much worse than this.

On Merlin’s 58th day in the cell, he reached out for Mordred first. He usually waited, trusting that his friends would find him, that they would come and save him from the dark box that he had found himself trapped in. On this day, however, Merlin had been convinced that the room had changed, that there were now five walls, not four, and so he decided he had to be going mad.

‘Tell Gwaine that I say yes.’ He waited for a reply, staring at the darkness and wondering why this had happened to him. Surely, if the Old religion had gifted him back his friends, they would not be as harsh as to make them grow old without him? He should have been there, he should have said yes to Gwaine in person at the end of the meal, like he knew the man had been planning. Gwaine was never discreet, so when he started hiding something, Merlin had panicked.

Finding the box had been the happiest moment of his life, and Merlin had almost burst into tears. Now, he tapped his foot to the dark floor and waited for a response.

_‘He says you can tell him that in person, when we get you out.’_ Merlin choked back a sob, pulled his knees up tighter.

**

On Merlin’s 184th day in the Cell, he concluded that the room now had seven walls. With this revelation, also came some other information. Firstly, he no longer grew hungry, nor did his body suffer from a lack of water. It seemed that he’d tricked his own immortality into no longer needing sustenance.

Upon this revelation, Merlin decided to explore the new walls. Ran his hands along them, traced each line, hummed to himself as he did so. Silence was almost as bad as the darkness, Merlin concluded, pacing out the distance between each wall. The room was expanding, if he genuinely hadn't lost his mind, that was.

He hadn't had access to his Magic in such a long time, but he called upon it now, surprised to find the faintest flicker. Enough to light a small orb, to illuminate the walls, and Merlin winced at the bright light. His eyes adjusted, blurry to begin, before focusing in on what he could see.

The walls were not bare. Not the smooth stone he had expected, but filled with pictures and paintings, and Merlin froze at the one he was facing.

Hundreds of people, dead, with various wounds that must have killed them. Swords, spears, arrows, lining the images and decorating the dead. A temple, half-broken, and in the centre of the wreckage, a man. A man with a sword that glowed, and a halo around his head. Merlin traced the image, moved onto the next, and the next, and the next.

On each of the seven walls, a story was being told. Of a creature that saw death, destruction, rebirth and life. Of an entity so powerful it could bring back the dead, was celebrated and cherished by the communities that he protected. Merlin looked to each of the walls, the light slowly gaining power, until he could see each of the seven walls.

_‘Merlin? We’ve just got back from America, and Eleanor thinks she’s got a new lead. We’ve found a spell, we think it might be able to let you speak to all of us, to extend our mind-speak.’_ Usually, Mordred’s voice was welcome, but right now, Merlin hated it. Despised it. Wanted it gone, blocked from his head, anything to keep it away.

He spun in a circle, letting the images blur his sight, and then tipped his head to the ceiling, looking to the painting that it had taken him so long to notice.

_‘Are you there? Is everything okay?’_ Merlin gripped his hair, handfuls of it, tugging to feel the relief of pain as his head grew foggy, everything muddled and confused.

He’d been here for so long, but the images were of him. Throughout his thousand-year-life, paintings from some of his most memorable times. Like they’d been following him for all this time, like they knew who he was.

_‘Gwaine’s worried about you, Merlin.’_ Merlin sunk to his knees in the centre of the seven-walls, the word that was painted on the ceiling echoing in his mind, playing behind his eyes as he screwed them shut and tried to ignore Mordred, tried to forget Gwaine’s bright smile and everything he had lost.

_‘We all are.’_

When he opened his eyes, the word had not changed.

Emrys.

They knew who he was, knew everything about him, and all Merlin could do was cry.

Because, if they knew so much about him, he could only come to one logical conclusion.

That this cell had been specifically designed to Cage him, his own personal version of Hell.


	2. Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has time to think, and begin to understand what his captors want

Merlin sat on the floor, cross-legged, humming to himself as he focused on the thrum of Magic inside him. It started at the end of his body, fingertips and toes, before slowly creeping up. It felt like sunlight, skipping over his body and lacing around him, growing into something bigger as it crept up his neck. When he was fully submerged, he let his eyes open, knew they were glowing. Burning, more like, with the golden fire that raced through his veins.

He stood, reached his hands out and concentrated, pushed the Magic further.

‘Show me.’ He growled, pushing harder, screwing his eyes shut as the light rippled through the room.

The energy was gone too quickly, and Merlin dropped to his knees, his head swimming. Darkness, and not from the room, closed over his vision, and he lowered his forehead to the stone in an attempt to cool down. He could do this, he had this under control.

When he rose back up, opening his eyes, he smiled.

He could expand his room. He could see the drawings, the endless pictures that told him why he was here, and Merlin was beginning to understand why he was down here.

It was useful, because Mordred was going to want to know why he had just expended so much energy. How he had found such energy. The Druid would have many questions, and Merlin finally had some answers.

As he let his eyes fall shut, the most important image flickered behind his mind. A drawing of a man, made entirely of golden light, with the people bowing down, surrounding the bright sunlight.

**

 _‘Can you hear us?’_ Merlin heard Mordred, not that he’d expected the spell to work, it was a difficult thing to do with all this Magic floating around.

 _‘Just you.’_ He could feel Mordred’s disappointment, the flare of upset at not being strong enough. It was incredible, just how much he could access through his side of the bond. Had it always been this strong, or was Merlin only just noticing the extent of his power?

 _‘I can try again.’_ Merlin hummed, not that bothered that he couldn’t hear the others. It would be distracting, too many voices in this silent place.

 _‘Don’t worry, this is okay. You all can hear me?_ ’ He wondered if the quietness would always stay with him, even if he got out of this place.

 _‘Yes. All of us are here, apart from Lily._ ’ They’d probably kicked her out, not quite trusting her enough. If Mordred wasn’t the only one that could communicate with him, he figured they’d do the same to the Druid. He wasn’t a trusted member, not yet, they eyed him warily and kept him in the corners.

 _‘How are you, El?’_ In this cell, Merlin had time to think about the most important times in his life. Excluding Camelot, Eleanor made it into the top five moments. He remembered cradling the small child in the biggest blanket collection known to man, the fire blazing, Eleanor on his lap being miserable because she’d caught a cold.

 _‘She says that she’s not a kid anymore, that she’s perfectly fine, but worried about you.’_ He could see the way she’d speak those words, a stubborn smile that was betrayed by the tears in her eyes, a slightly wobble of her voice, the way she wouldn’t look to anyone but Mordred as she spoke to him.

 _‘Atta’ girl, El.’_ He chuckled weakly, then remembered he was supposed to be finding a way out of here.

 _‘Mordred, I need you to do something for me. Move to Eleanor’s chair, place your fingertips on her temple, and press your foreheads together. The spell you’ve got going at the moment will falter, but I need Eleanor to see this.’_ He waited, felt Mordred move from wherever he was sitting. When he made contact, Merlin could feel it, pushed his Magic through Mordred and to the closest thing he had to a daughter.

 _‘Don’t worry, you’re okay. You can see and hear what I can, but you can’t respond. I need you to give me your opinion on these.’_ He stood, let his eyes open and looked to the paintings. He gave each one a good look, then tipped his head to the name on the ceiling. Once he’d done that, he broke the connection, felt Mordred stumble away from Eleanor.

 _‘She… uh…’_ Mordred faltered, and Merlin could imply what she was saying. She was angry that he’d lied about the food and water in the cell. Merlin waited, until Mordred eventually sighed, and his voice filtered back through.

 _‘She wants to know if there’s ever been any food and water._ ’ Of course she did, the poor girl was concerned for him, when it was his job to protect her. That was what he’d been doing, but he needed her opinion on the markings.

 _‘No, but I’m immortal, so starvation isn’t going to keep me dead. Eleanor, focus on the pictures, I need your opinion on them.’_ No doubt she’d be swearing at him, Merlin sitting back down and shutting his eyes, focusing back on the link.

 _‘She says it looks like they specifically meant to capture you. She asks if your Magic is weaker.’_ So, Eleanor was coming to the same conclusions that he had.

‘They think I’m their God. They know who I am, what I’ve done. El, I need you to stay away from them.’ Speaking those words aloud, letting them echo around the empty room, wondering if his voice had always been this weak. He then imagined Eleanor, she would be protesting, no doubt, could hear Mordred wince at whatever she was saying.

 _‘Don’t argue with me, Eleanor. I can’t have you near them, they’ll see you as my daughter, and will use your Magic if they get their hands on it. I need you safe.’_ He’d never called her his daughter, not aloud, and he knew he’d stunned her into silence.

 _‘Mordred, start looking through tribes in south America and Polynesia._ ’ Then, finally, with all of that out of the way, he could speak to the others.

 _‘I know I can’t hear you, but I guess this works. You’ll all be running around like chickens, but you don’t need to panic. I’m okay, more concerned about all of you. And Gwaine_ ,’ He halted, emotion threatening to creep in,

‘ _I l…_ ’

He froze, because the room around him was moving. He slammed shut the connection, slowly opened his eyes and stared.

Because the walls had fallen away, and he was now in what appeared to be a central point of a series of catacombs. Merlin spun, ignored the faint sound of Mordred’s voice in his head, called for his Magic and then realised that wasn’t what he needed to do.

They’d let him out of the cell for a reason. The moment he’d accepted what they were doing to him.

‘You think I’m your God?! Then why don’t you come out and let me show you what a God can do?’ Silence met his statement, and Merlin looked to the first corridor.

He had to start somewhere.


	3. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's having a hard time, as is his boyfriend

**_‘Do you see what you could become?’_ **

Merlin looked to the walls, to the images that continued to stretch out, and fought his way through the mess that was beginning to crowd his mind. Memories, blurring with pictures and paintings of things that could not be real.

**_‘Do you see what you are?’_ **

Strange, how the mortality of a person could slip away so quickly, with the silence and dark being his only solitude.

**_‘Do you see the strength?’_ **

There were other cells. Merlin traced the edges of them, of the cells that contained creatures like him. Things of Magic, of the Old Religion that had died, creatures of Magic. He reached out, palm flat against the stone, and screwed his eyes shut.

He was alone, in whatever this place was, and he missed his friends. His family. The thing that had made him understand his Destiny, that had him chasing after the Magic he’d been gifted.

**_‘But you don’t have Magic, Emrys.’_ **

The stone under his touch began to warm, the light inside pulsing through the rock, shattering it. Inside, a stone cell with four walls, and a person in the centre. Or what would have been a person, but all that remained was a skeleton.

They had starved, or dehydrated, alone in a cell where nobody would find them. They’d lost their family, their friends, the people they loved.

**_‘You are Magic.’_ **

He turned away from the sight, looked to the endless darkness that surrounded him. Then, he thought to what he was missing most in the world, and let the light fade.

**

Gwaine woke up, the sunlight bringing out the worst headache. He groaned, rolled from the bed, Merlin’s bed, and looked around the room. A mess of empty alcohol bottles, of Merlin’s clothes, that he had desperately stripped from their homes and pressed against him, to try and trick his mind into thinking he was here.

He missed Merlin. It was like a hole in his chest, an ache that wouldn’t fade, and it made him miserable. Dragging himself to the shower was hard, especially when everything in this place reminded him of his Warlock. He didn’t bother to turn up the temperature, let the cold water get rid of the alcohol that was sweating from his skin, before grabbing a towel and walking back out.

‘I’m drunk.’ He said aloud, staring at his bed, their bed, and the man sitting on it. At his speech, the dark-haired man looked up, burning gold eyes meeting his.

Merlin.

‘You look awful.’ Merlin remarked, standing up carefully, and Gwaine noted that the golden tint was not limited to his eyes, it hung on every inch of clothing, at the ends of his fingertips, at the strands of dark curls.

‘You’re glowing.’ Gwaine shot back, the words weak, his entire head throbbing. Had he drunk himself to death?

‘I wish I was really here.’ Merlin muttered, took another step closer. Gwaine did the same, until they were inches apart, but there was no body heat. No familiar warmth, or the scent he had been chasing for the weeks Merlin had been gone. The months.

‘Where are you, love?’ His heart was breaking, and from the sad smile on Merlin’s face, he wasn’t alone. Oh, it hurt so much, to know that he was probably dreaming.

‘I don’t know anymore, Gwaine. I’m… I’m lost. It’s so dark.’ That sounded like Merlin, a tint of worry at the edge of the words, fear of the unknown. Merlin had always been slightly timid of the dark, especially when Gwaine wasn’t there, the man knew that.

‘I’m going to find you.’ Gwaine promised, was unsure why he was believing in this image, when it was clearly a dream.

Merlin reached out, and even though it wasn’t the touch of skin, a warmth spread over his hand. Sunlight, that’s what it felt like, and Gwaine squeezed his eyes shut.

‘Gods, I miss you.’ Gwaine sobbed, and the sunlight was back, on his cheek, ghosting across his lips.

‘I miss you too, Gwaine. My Knight.’

It wasn’t real, this wasn’t real. He’d drunk too much alcohol, had driven recklessly in the car that Merlin told him he wasn’t allowed to drive, had almost crashed once or twice. Tipped back drink after drink, until his throat burned and he could almost believe that Merlin was still here.

This was cruel, his mind was cruel. So, like he did when he needed to convince himself that Merlin wasn’t really here, he muttered the spell.

 _‘Forbearnan_.’ It would never work, not since Merlin had gone, for he possessed no Magic of his own. Everything he had, all the magic, it came from Merlin’s presence. His smile, his bright eyes, the soft kisses that reminded Gwaine he was lucky to be alive.

He opened his eyes, and the world rocked underneath his feet.

In his hand, a tiny orange flame.

**

Merlin ached, howled into the darkness as the connection broke, and sunk down to the floor. He’d almost had everything he wanted, had been able to see the person that his heart longed for, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t strong enough.

‘Is that what you want?!’ He shouted to the emptiness, to where the voices had come from, but no person was present.

‘You want me to be your God?!’ They mistook him for something he wasn’t, thought he could do things that he clearly couldn’t.

Each of his accomplishments, they saw as proof that he was something more than human. His nurturing nature towards those with Magic, his presence at some of History’s bloodiest battles.

‘Then show me how!’ He begged, to anybody that would listen. He just wanted to get back to them, to Gwaine, to Arthur, to Eleanor. To his family.

**_‘But Emrys, you’re already a God.’_ **

The voice spoke once, and then offered no further wisdom, and Merlin could do nothing but curl up on the floor.

**

‘I’ve been researching all the possible locations of tribal populations that might…’ Eleanor froze in her description, looked up to the man that had just entered the room. The Home was empty at the moment, the children sent to those that Merlin had raised previously, more than willing to tutor and keep safe the Magic of the next generation, while they looked for the Warlock.

Last night, Eleanor and Lancelot had tried to stop Gwaine from taking the Mazda from the Garage, but he was determined. They’d smelt the alcohol when he got back, heard the shouts and thuds as Gwaine wrecked the room. Most were sympathetic, apart from Arthur, who almost always got into fights with the other man.

Now, Gwaine looked pale. The heads rose, the table focused on him, before Freya’s chair screeched along the floor as she stood.

‘Impossible.’ Muttered, and then Eleanor spotted it. On Gwaine’s arm, on his wrist, a tiny symbol that she would have recognised anywhere.

A circle, contained within a square, within a triangle, within a circle. The hermetic seal of light, a symbol well known throughout time as representing the power of sunlight, of revealing all that hid in the shadows.

‘Light.’ Freya whispered, tracing the edge of the tattoo, whilst Gwaine just stared blankly.

‘What is it?’ Arthur asked, and Freya looked to Gwaine, then to the once-King.

‘Emrys.’

‘Child of the Gods, Bringer of Light.’ Gwaine stated, like he had it memorised, and Eleanor’s chest tightened.

‘It’s Merlin’s symbol.’


	4. God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all the confused people:  
> Merlin is trapped in some sort of cell, that has paintings on the side of his life, which should be impossible for anyone to know. He also seems to be increasingly powerful.

There were, in total, eight other cells. Each with the same thing inside, the walls that were supposed to open up, yet evidently their Magic had not been strong enough. One of them, the last of the eight, had managed to get to six walls. But they too were a skeleton by the time Merlin reached them, and he had decided that these people had adopted trial and error to find him.

So, they were seeking a God. And, evidently, they thought that was him. Merlin knew that he was a little bit special. That Magic existed in him, was part of him, more than it was a part of anyone else. The longer he spent down in the dark, the more his Magic grew, the more it took over parts of him that he’d thought human.

He wasn’t hungry. The thought of things he’d previously enjoyed, spaghetti or noodles or burgers, it didn’t appeal any more. Nor did the thought of drinking, not even alcohol. He wondered if this was part of whatever transformation they thought they were completing.

He also found out that his body was changing slightly. On his way back from Cell Eight, he’d tripped. Completely accidental, how was he to know that the skeleton had fallen over, it was dark. Still, he’d fallen straight onto the stone, cut open his arm nastily.

Normally, he’d need to stitch the wound before he lost too much blood, but he was pretty sure he’d broken a bone. Gaius, long ago, had taught him how to mend such a thing with very few resources. As he’d gone to use one of the bones as a splint, he noticed he wasn’t bleeding blood.

No, the usual crimson tint had turned shimmery, like golden paint. As he watched, the darkness of the room was lit by it, and the wound healed in front of his very eyes. Magic.

He’d never been good at healing spells, but this was different. He didn’t even think about healing the wound, had instinctively gone for traditional methods, but his Magic had opted for something different. It was intriguing, and so Merlin took one of the bones and sharpened it using the stone.

It split his skin with ease, and Merlin watched as the blood was yet again golden-tinted, healed as quickly as he was cut.

That was the first thing he noticed, but he decided not to tell Mordred that night, when the Druid told him that his mark had appeared on Gwaine.

If Merlin had done such a thing, (he’d presumed it a dream), then there had to be a chance for him.

He decided to try again. The next strongest connection was probably to Arthur, his destiny decreed it.

**

Arthur sat in his room, looking out of the window and wondering if this was his fault. He’d always watched Merlin guard them, give them a new life. He’d done so much for them, and now they couldn’t find him. No spell had worked, and they’d been trusting Mordred. He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and wondered if he’d ever find Merlin.

‘Arthur?’ He almost tripped, trying to turn. Sitting on the edge of the bed, the Warlock was staring up at him, eyes burning brighter than the sun.

‘Merlin… what in Gods name…’ The Warlock chuckled, looked awkward, but stood up anyway. He looked much the same as when Arthur last saw him, if a little thinner, apart from the eyes. Those were almost scary, the fact that they shone, compared to the rest of his vague form. 

‘I don’t know… it just, I miss you so much.’ Arthur reached out, managed to get a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but he didn’t quite feel… there. It was like he was a ghost, slipping between his fingers, and Arthur knew this wasn’t going to last long. He considered calling for the others, before deciding against it, holding on and wishing they had longer.

‘I’m going to find you, Merlin. I swear it.’ His friend had tears in his eyes, reached out for his hand, and Arthur gasped.

He was solid, just for a moment. Fingers wrapped around his wrist, and a warmth spread over the skin, before Merlin was gone. The space where he had stood was empty, not a single speck of the golden that had previously lit the room.

Arthur stepped back, before looking to where the warmth had touched, turning his inner wrist to the ceiling.

On the previously unblemished skin, a symbol much like the one on Gwaine’s skin.

**

**_‘You’re doing better than we could ever have hoped.’_ **

Merlin realised, with a little bit of wandering around, that the light was him. Every room he entered, the darkness crept back, and the pictures were lit up. It was as if he was his own source of light, not muttering a single spell, and the Warlock sat down and wondered how long it would take him to get enough energy to go and visit them again.

Looking to the pictures, he knew exactly who he needed to go to.

But it was risky. If he went to visit Eleanor, and they figured out that the woman had been raised by him, she might be put in danger. Her Magic was strong, with the ability to bring back the Knights of Camelot.

Speaking of resurrection spells, he wondered if the energy that it would take to do such a thing, might be enough to produce a strain that Eleanor could trace.

It might work. If he brought somebody back from the dead, the energy it would need would produce a stain that Eleanor or Mordred could track. But, the question was, who would he bring back? It had to be someone with Magic, that much was clear, they might be able to help him escape this fortress.

He considered his past lives, thought to all the sorcerers he had raised, the children that he’d saved and raised as his own. Each one, powerful in their own way, but was it enough? He needed someone that could beat Eleanor, and he didn’t think any of children could do such a thing.

It left an option, that he didn’t really want to consider.

Then again, if what these captors were saying was true, he was powerful. A God, almost, and therefore the sorcerer would not be dangerous to him.

Or, more accurately, the Sorceress.


	5. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's getting stronger, a Witch wants to live, and Eleanor's upset

‘Do I want to know how you did this?’ The Witch asked, looking around the forest she found herself in. The last thing she recalled was bleeding out, stuck in a body that did not belong to her, but now she was in her own skin. Merlin was standing opposite her, dressed in the same clothes he would wear in Camelot, but his eyes were burning far brighter than she could ever recall.

He looked powerful. More powerful than he had been when she’d last seen him, clutching at her and whispering sweet promises as she died yet again.

‘I don’t think you do.’ Merlin stated, looking around the trees and to the blue sky, then back to her. She took note of the trees, how real everything looked, yet she knew they would not hold out if she reached for them, attempted to touch.

‘You call me from my grave, to brag of power?’ Morgana wasn’t sure why she was teasing him, nor why he seemed so peaceful. So amused, a smirk lighting his face, like it had been before she’d run away with Morgause and he’d tried to kill her.

‘I call to ask for your assistance, as a powerful Sorceress, and a friend.’ That was a new one, or perhaps, an old term. Friend, not something she’d used in a while, not for anybody. Then again, Merlin had a long time to understand her anger, so she decided to return his smile.

‘It seems rather one sided.’ Merlin took a step closer, and Morgana realised that it was not just the usual golden, it seemed to be taking over his eyes entirely. More than a sorcerer, but she had the feeling he was not quite transitioned into whatever he was supposed to become.

‘In return, I will return you to the world, in a body that will be yours and yours alone, although not your original.’ Morgana considered the proposition. She was rather peaceful, during the empty times between her death and her first resurrection. Then again, the thought of exploring the future, of seeing a new world, it was exciting. She would not waste this one in meaningless battles, would pave a way for her without reliance on her Magic.

‘The others will not agree to such a thing.’ She pointed out, Merlin shrugging.

‘I was not planning on telling them. It is why I offer you a new body, so they do not recognise you.’ If he had the ability to do such a thing, without an offering to the Old Religion or the power of bloodlines, like her previous host had called upon, he had to be immensely powerful.

‘What help do you need?’ And why could he not do it himself, more importantly.

‘I have been caged, by a group of unknown people. I require a fresh set of eyes, and you are the strongest sorcerer I know.’ Caged, like she had been, and she pitied him. Was that why he was finding this new power?

‘If you are Caged, how will you find me a body?’ And how would he obtain one, more importantly. She did not want somebody sick, or weak, or feeble. She needed to be able to hold her own.

‘I will carry you with me, until I can place you inside a body of your own.’ Morgana had been right, he was powerful. As she got closer, it radiated out further, warmed her skin far more than the sun ever could.

‘Where do I sign up?’ She joked, watched his hand stretch out and offer to her.

**

Eleanor had waited till she shut the door to her room, before she began to cry. Full on sobbing, slumping down and drawing her knees to her chest, trying not to be too loud.

She missed him. Merlin had been a constant in her life, raising her and teaching her everything she knew, and she was not used to him being gone. To not comfort her, to praise her, to encourage her decisions. She was beginning to think that he had been wrong to put so much faith in her, she didn’t think that she could find him.

She was failing him, after all he’d done for her.

Arthur and Gwaine both had marks on their arms, and Eleanor hadn't been able to break apart the fight that had formed, the two of them throwing punches and calling each other names. They both missed Merlin, yet she was the one who had to act so strong, to keep them all in line.

‘Oh, El.’ Her breath caught, eyes flicked open, to see Merlin fondly smiling down at her. His eyes were burning, but under them, she could see the tears that mirrored her own.

She launched forwards, unable to stop herself, expecting to go straight through.

Arms hit her, drew her in to his chest and held her tightly as she cried, cradled her gently and murmured under his breath.

‘You’re doing so well, Eleanor. I’m so proud of you.’ She looked up, testing the lengths of her Magic, trying to creep out and feel if he was really here. When nothing responded, her heart sunk.

‘I know, but I’ll be with you soon. Don’t worry, kiddo, you aren’t alone.’ She took his hand, watched his thumb rest over her wedding band, the one that he’d helped Lily pick. That he’d held, as he danced with her at the wedding reception. The hand that he’d held, as they walked down the aisle, and she never mentioned the tears that welled in his eyes.

‘I need you, Mer. I can’t… I don’t know what to do.’ But he was slipping away, a sad smile that she could only echo. When he was gone, Eleanor curled up tightly, looked to where he’d held her hand.

The symbol, on her wrist, that told her it hadn't been a dream. That Merlin was really alive, and still concerned for her.

Of course he was, the idiot. He always knew when she needed him.

**

‘That was cute. Who is she?’ Merlin stepped back, admired the bright room that he was standing in, and projected the imagery of Morgana into the corner. She faltered, stared down to her almost-there body, then shuddered.

‘You’re still growing in strength.’ He didn’t comment on that topic, didn’t want to think about what was happening to him.

‘She’s my protégée. My almost-daughter.’ Morgana hummed, traced the painting on the wall of Merlin, cradling a small infant with a golden ball over them.

‘The one who brought them back.’

‘One of your bloodline.’ He agreed, while the Witch moved around the room. If she was concerned by the images, she didn’t say anything, although her focus drifted to the bone, with blood on the end of it.

‘Watch.’ Merlin picked it up, slicing down his arm in one smooth movement. Again, the gold dribbled out, slightly too shimmery to be normal blood. The wound healed, and Morgana rose an eyebrow.

‘What did you say they thought of you?’ Merlin gestured to the ceiling, then to the many cells that he had explored.

‘They think I’m a God.’ The Witch paused, cocked her head slightly and then looked around the room.

‘I’m inclined to agree with them.’


	6. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana and Merlin are on the move, and the group are closing in

It was huge. Bigger than anything she’d ever predicted, and there was only one person who could have that sort of energy. Merlin. Down in South America, in Argentina, the very trace they’d been waiting for. Gwaine was excited, as was Arthur, even if the two of them were sitting there with bruised eyes and split lips, the rest of the group just as energised.

Nobody had Magic like Merlin did, and the tracing spell had picked up on the wave of energy at 4am. It was a start, Mordred and Eleanor planning a flight across to check the exact location of the wave, the others determined to join. Nobody pointed out that Eleanor shouldn’t be coming, that Merlin had specifically told her not to.

**

‘That was dramatic.’ Morgana remarked, from somewhere in the back of his mind as Merlin pushed past the broken wall. It splintered, the rubble destroying the imagery that had been painting the walls, Merlin stepping over the boundary before repeating the process.

When they reached sunlight, it was rather anticlimactic. It streamed in, filling the hole he’d been living in for so long, lighting it up and chasing away any remnants of darkness.

They were in mountains, that much Merlin could tell instantly. And, from the screaming of the people in the huts around them, they had not expected Merlin to appear. He stepped out, feet bare on the grass, and looked around.

‘I expected it to be brighter.’ He said aloud, while people ran around the clearing and reached for different weapons, shouting in a language he couldn’t be bothered to translate, just watching them with amusement.

‘You’re glowing again.’ Morgana remarked, sounding slightly too sassy for his liking, and he looked down. Sure enough, his skin was glowing again, and he realised that it seemed darker than normal because he was shining too bright. Huh.

‘Did they even realise what they’d trapped?’ Merlin looked to the people, shaking and terrified, none of them quite sure of the best course of action. He took a step towards them, earned hissed words and pointy sticks that wouldn’t hurt him even if they tried.

‘I think they expected you to stay down there.’ The Witch was probably right, but Merlin just wanted to get out of this damned place.

**

Arthur wasn’t fond of flying. Combine that with the fact that Eleanor had placed him next to Gwaine, well, it was an awkward flight. The two of them sat in silence, both too stubborn to apologise, both wishing they’d never started the fight.

It had been Arthur’s fault. He’d goaded Gwaine, teased him about how Merlin had come to him, had comforted him. Gwaine had been temperamental ever since Merlin’s disappearance, and it was one step too far for his old friend. A lot of harsh words and some punching later, the two of them had fallen into silence.

‘I’m sorry.’ Arthur blanched, looked across to Gwaine, who wasn’t looking at him. For a moment, he couldn’t quite believe that Gwaine had said the words, but then he was raising his head and looking right at him.

‘Me too.’ He admitted, and the two of them went back to their silence. The plane jolted slightly, jumped and creaked, and Arthur’s head shot up.

‘Sorry for that, Ladies and Gentleman, we’ve got an unexpected storm up ahead, so if you could please put your seatbelts on…’ The voice continued, while Arthur looked to Gwaine, then to Eleanor.

A storm, unexpected, close to the location they were expecting Merlin to be.

Could it be a coincidence?

**

‘You really do know how to make an entrance.’ Morgana teased, testing her new body as she slowly sat up. Her skin was darker than it had been in Camelot, but she rather liked it, a soft face and dark hair. Slightly shorter than she had been before, and when she reached out for Merlin, she realised that it would take some time to adjust. She looked like a foal, struggling on legs that she couldn’t get the hang of.

‘Come on, we’ve got to figure out where we are.’ The two of them were currently inside one of the tents, where Merlin had performed the spell to place her into a body. She’d chosen, from the mass group of people that had attacked the two of them.

Most of them were dead. Merlin had tried to get them to see sense, that attacking wasn’t the answer, but it was very hard to convince them.

They seemed to think that capturing a God would bring peace to their lands, a bountiful harvest and good luck. Instead, Merlin had ripped open a mountain and summoned a storm that was probably drowning a lot of people by this point.

Her legs were getting stronger, used to the weight of her body, following him out onto the grass. He was still glowing, a golden hue to his skin and molten eyes, he was quite terrifying. Did he realise, or was he too focused on returning to his friends?

The storm stopped, the sun streaking through the clouds Merlin’s anger had caused, and Morgana hurried across to the almost-God in fear of being left behind.

‘Which way?’ She couldn’t see any signs of life in any direction, not of the human kind. A beautiful land, but very confusing, no signs of human settlement, apart from the Camp that they’d shredded.

‘This way.’ Merlin didn’t hesitate, walking off in a direction that she wouldn’t have chosen, but she didn’t question it. If he thought this was the right way, it probably was.

**

Hiking. Gwaine should have known it involved hiking. He shifted the rucksack, looked to where Eleanor was balancing a map.

‘This is dangerous territory.’ That didn’t sound good, he looked to the others, then back to Eleanor. He noted that Mordred looked just as worried, so it must be a magical thing.

‘Spirits. They haunt this place, attack, according to my research. This place is uninhabited, apart from the dead. Our Magic is useless.’ Brilliant, just what Gwaine wanted. He was glad he had a hunting knife, having bought it while the others worried what coloured shirts to have. Arthur, like him, had packed weaponry.

‘Stick close together.’ Arthur stated, and the group closed in. Gwaine gave the once-King a nod, he’d have his back, should it come to a fight.

**

Morgana washed her feet, wincing at the split skin. Merlin wasn’t too far away, but she didn’t dare disturb him, not when the gold was increasing. Around him, spirits, dancing in the clearing and apparently attracted to his energy.

As a High Priestess, she’d seen the power that spirits could do. They were vague things, shapes that blurred and twisted, could often inhibit Magic or cause damage. Yet here, they seemed to be surrounding him, drawn to him, perhaps even waiting for his command.

Emrys, not Merlin. That was what was happening, she’d concluded, he was becoming everything he could. Her own Magic felt drawn to him, like a siren’s call, barely resistible.

If she’d brought back someone from the dead, it would take her days to recover, if not weeks. Yet, Merlin seemed stronger since bringing her back, like every use of Magic was increasing his abilities. She didn’t doubt that he could transport them through this forest without walking, if he put his mind to it.

‘Sorry.’ He noticed her feet, came rushing across, leaving the spirts dancing in the clearing. His hands closed over her skin, the glow spreading through her and healing every ache and scratch.

‘Thanks.’ She muttered, before smiling up to him, and Merlin smiled back. Blue eyes, for once, almost the same as the ones from Camelot.


	7. Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's free, Morgana's got an unlimited fuel-box, and Gwaine doesn't like jungles

Morgana laughed, danced in the rain and wondered if she had ever felt this carefree. The thunder rumbled, trees shuddering under the power of their Magic, and the Witch felt wild. Her hair was a mess, body soaked through to the bone, yet she was alive. Breathing, able to control the world around her, calling upon her Magic and watching it light the sky.

Merlin had been right, there was another way. A better way, in which she could reign down chaos, yet maintain the truce with the God sitting out on a crop of rocks to the side. He was meditating, she believed, the golden dome surrounding him far too powerful for her to break. Yet, even now, he was gifting her Magic.

It soaked the earth, making every element respond, and Morgana raised her hands to the sky. She had never mastered the ability to control the weather, that had been reserved for very powerful spells, or her sister, Morgause. Now, lightning streaked through the darkness, and Morgana shrieked.

It was responding to her, a High Priestess of the Old Religion. No, not quite the Old Religion. Responding to Magic itself, represented in a not-so-human body, Merlin. He echoed the power, controlled anything he wanted, and Morgana wondered if his power was still growing. It seemed to be, if the molten sunlight surrounding him was anything to go by.

‘Morgana.’ She turned, lowering her arms and looking to the God, who was beaming.

‘Can you see them?’ He nodded, offered a hand to her, and she took it. He helped her climb to the top of the rocks, looking out over the forest, and her breath caught.

It was beautiful. A place of rugged nature, the drop from the rocks would be enough to kill her, but Merlin would never let her fall. She spread her feet, leant forwards and breathed in the fresh air, the taste of Magic that danced. An arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her steady, and she looked over her shoulder to Merlin.

‘Show me!’ The sunlight crept over her skin, sinking deep into her Magic, and as she turned back to the forest, she could see them.

**

‘I hate forests.’ Gwaine grumbled, used his stick to bash away a vine that was attempting to become friendly with him. Eleanor was in her element here, dressed in her hiking gear with a hat upon her head, a compass hanging around her neck and a bright smile that would rival the sun, had it not been hidden by the storm that had arrived.

The weather was going back and forth, caught between sunlight and storm, which was a sign that they had to be heading in the right direction. Arthur had caught the sun, his cheeks bronzed slightly, eyes tracking every movement. The others were determined, pushed onwards despite the muggy heat and the lightning that pierced the sky.

‘Spirits.’ Gwaine almost ran into her halted form, looked past Eleanor to see wisps of grey dancing across an open space, a muddy looking pool between them.

‘Dangerous?’ Arthur asked, reaching for the knife on his belt, which made Gwaine roll his eyes. What was he possibly going to do? Stab a ghost?

‘They seem to be… celebrating. Dancing.’ The wisp stopped, and right before Gwaine’s eyes, it began to form into a person. A man, with a hole in his shoulder, and a grin on his face. He reached out, before vanishing entirely.

‘What was that?’ Lancelot hissed, and Alice reached to take his hand.

‘They’re gaining energy from something.’ Heads turned to Eleanor, but she shook her head.

‘It isn’t me.’

‘Then it’s got to be Merlin.’ Arthur concluded, before Mordred spoke up.

‘Unless there’s another sorcerer.’ Ridiculous, why would there be another sorcerer out in this wilderness?

**

‘Stop toying with them.’ Merlin said with a soft smile, watching as Morgana reached for one of the spirits, pumping energy into it until it was almost solid. Then, she banished it, pushing it away and back into the veil between life and death, caught on this perilous ground.

‘We’re getting closer to the group.’ He added, looked away from Morgana and back to the sky. The Magic in him felt wild, powerful beyond anything he could ever remember, wanting to spread its wings and test the abilities it had.

He could feel Freya, hiking in this direction, the faint traces of her Magic begging for power. Mordred, his Druid-soul connected to Merlin, calling out in his mind. Alice and Eleanor, the same traces as Morgana’s power, but nowhere near her strength.

Speaking of, the Witch was currently entertaining yet another spirit, trying out her new powers. Just because she had changed appearances, skin now the colour of caramel, dark hair and eyes of grey, it didn’t mean she had changed personalities. Energetic, like the Morgana he first met in Camelot.

‘Why bother walking? You could bounce from here to anywhere on Earth.’ He wasn’t sure how she knew such a thing, how she could feel his Magic despite the fact that he was trying to reign it back in. Maybe, by bringing her back, he’d accidentally tethered them together. It mattered not, Morgana would do well in balancing the gifts of Magic, would make a powerful High Priestess that could channel his gift.

‘I’m tired. I just want…’ He stopped, but the Witch turned to him.

‘You just want to see Gwaine.’ Teasing, and Merlin had to agree.

He missed his family.

**

Eleanor squawked, while Gwaine slammed the man into a tree and pressed the knife to his neck.

‘Who are you.’ He hissed, and the man growled. Mordred was moving closer, as was Arthur, before the man started to speak. He didn’t understand the language, but Mordred seemed to, probably that spell he’d been talking about earlier when he was trying to explain that he could translate languages to his own.

‘He says that the God escaped, that he’s in the mountain valley, with a spirit.’ Merlin. Gwaine dug deeper, the knife drawing blood, and the man hissed.

‘Calls him a ball of golden, that they thought they could trap him. Everyone’s dead, apparently.’ Good, because if Merlin didn’t kill them, he would have done. He went to finish of this man, before Arthur gently tapped his shoulder.

There were spirits, but these ones were mostly solid. Watching them, and Gwaine’s distraction allowed the man to break free and run. He went to chase, but one of the spirits moved closer.

‘I think they’re going after him.’ Eleanor whispered, two of the spirits vanishing. The others beckoned to them, before walking back into the trees.

‘Where are they taking us?’ Freya asked, stepping out from Leon’s side and staring across at the treeline.

‘Hopefully to Merlin.’


	8. Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting of the group, but Merlin's hiding things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so late! I've been having some issues, but all is sorted now so I should be back on track

When the Spirits stopped, so did the group. Coming over one of the Mountain crests, the brightest glow of sunlight, which was strange, because they had been walking away from the sun. It took Gwaine a moment to recognise the source of the light, to spot the man under the energy, and then he was running.

The group were quick to follow, and as soon as Merlin spotted him, the light vanished.

The Warlock practically flew into his arms, and Gwaine couldn’t find it in him to care that he was crying. Clutching at him, listening to Merlin’s choked laughter, his happiness far outshining anything else.

‘Gods, Gwaine, I…’ He didn’t wait to hear, pressed his lips firmly to Merlin’s, and the Warlock sunk against him. Back where he belonged, back where Gwaine’s heart could handle him. Right by his side.

He hugged Eleanor next, the woman crying as Merlin ran a hand through her hair, soothed her, comforted her like a parent would a child. Then Alice, before hugs went around the group. He paused when he came to Arthur, but the once-King dragged him in.

Mordred was last, the two magic-users exchanging a glance, before Merlin pulled him in. The Druid seemed surprised, but happy for the comfort, before they pulled back.

‘You’re hurt.’ He almost forgot about his fight with Arthur, felt rather ashamed now that he was standing by Merlin’s side. The Warlock healed it, he could feel the warmth under his skin, before Merlin caught sight of the bruise on Arthur’s cheekbone.

He didn’t ask.

**

Merlin didn’t need to ask to know something had happened, but he was more concerned with the fact that they were here. He was here, embracing them, and everything felt right. His Magic had finally sunk back into his bones, slotting into place alongside the wash of emotions that came with standing here, back with his family.

He linked his fingers with Gwaine’s, before noting that they had caught sight of Morgana.

‘Oh, right, introductions. This is Melione.’ Morgana caught the double-meaning of the name, smirked, but stepped forwards anyway. A quick wave, and the group looked between them.

‘She helped me escape.’ He added, and was surprised when Eleanor pulled the woman in for a hug. Morgana blinked, but hugged her back anyway.

‘A sorcerer?’ Alice asked, evidently able to feel some of her power.

‘Yes, it was my group of people that captured Merlin, and I wished to free him.’ Morgana sounded every inch the apologetic villager, and the group were quick to move onto more pressing matters. Like the spirits, that were still hovering around them.

‘They led us to you.’ Gwaine stated, squeezing his hand.

‘Actually, they led you to Melione. Possibly because of…’ He was cut off by a rumbling sound, Merlin wincing slightly, looking back to the mountains. It couldn’t be long now, they had to get going.

‘What in God’s name was that?’ Eleanor asked, staring right at him.

‘I may have accidentally blown-up a mountain…’ Merlin began, earning him some startled glances,

‘And triggered a seismic event that’s about to send a coastal wave up the valley.’ Morgana finished. They had been discussing this on the walk, it turned out that Merlin’s sight could extend a lot further than he first thought, and the sign of a Tsunami heading their way wasn’t a nice one.

‘A Tsunami?’ Eleanor squeaked, before getting her emotions back in check, and looking to the mountains.

‘We need to head upwards.’ Logically, it would have been the right move. But Merlin just wanted to get back home, far from this horrid jungle.

‘We can walk. Merlin can stop the wave when it comes.’ Morgana stated, as if reading his mind, and he smiled across to her. The group seemed startled by the revelation, but Merlin encouraged them to walk, and so they started the journey home.

‘I missed you.’ Gwaine mumbled, pressed a kiss to his lips, and Merlin returned the sentiment. Morgana came to walk by his side, and Mordred looked between them.

 _‘That’s Morgana.’_ Merlin hid his shock well, didn’t even alarm Gwaine with his brief tense moment.

 _‘Welcome to the group-chat.’_ Morgana snarked, and Merlin bit down on his lip to stop a chuckle. Still sassy.

 _‘She’s on our side. We need her, for now.’_ The last thing he wanted to do was panic the group, but Morgana was the only one that had the ability to control Magic to the extent that he needed. He’d called her Melione for a reason, the nicknamed Goddess of Ghosts. Her connection to the dead may be useful, in finding out what exactly they had done to him, why he was now glowing more than the sun itself.

 _‘And here, I thought we were friends.’_ He didn’t need to look to know she was pouting, her eyes alight with mischief, and Mordred looked between them.

 _‘But working with her…’_ He sounded so unsure, like his new-found trust on the group would be completely wrecked by this. Then again, Merlin had been the one to bring her back.

 _‘Nothing you haven’t done before.’_ Morgana chided, and Mordred tripped over a tree-root. He was stabilised by Arthur, who asked if he was alright. Merlin tensed, Morgana looked gleeful, and poor Mordred looked terrified.

‘Just fine.’ He eventually stated, and Merlin let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

**

Morgana looked to the spirits surrounding them, tried to push past the limits of being alive, to ask them more on why they had chosen Merlin. Could he really be the only Immortal to walk the earth? It was a terrifying thought, that they would all eventually die, leaving Merlin… here. She might be different, her tie to the Old Religion would allow her to resurrect again, but she didn’t know if the others could.

They didn’t have much to say, just repeating the words EMRYS and GOD and POWER.

It was an intriguing thing, they had so much faith in him. Then again, Merlin was powerful. He’d brought her back from the dead, and hadn't even needed to have a nap.

But was he powerful enough to stop a Tsunami?


	9. Merlin the Glowstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana's honestly a legend and if anyone disagrees, fight me
> 
> Chapter title because it was a suggestion that I totally agree with

‘Just in case it goes wrong.’ Merlin promised, clutched at Gwaine’s hands and let his forehead rest against his. Around them, the others were speaking, but he was too focused on the fact that he finally had everything back that he wanted. Gwaine looked terrified, as terrified as Merlin felt at the fact that he would be parted from him, even if it was to stop a flood that would likely kill them all if he didn’t.

‘Come back to me.’ Gwaine pleaded, showing weakness that replaced his usual confidence, and Merlin’s heart cracked just a little more. He kissed him, pushing everything into the brief contact, every promise he couldn’t make in such a short period of time.

‘I promise.’ He stated when he stepped back, missed Gwaine’s warmth immediately. The once-Knight frowned, but took a half-step back as well, ready to be protected by Eleanor’s shield. Mordred was silent, standing with the group, an unsure expression on his face that Merlin knew was because of the woman by Merlin’s side.

‘Good. Because I’ve still got a question to ask.’ Gwaine joked, eyes alight with mischief, and the group chuckled. Merlin rolled his eyes fondly, before a gagging sound came from Morgana, leaning against a tree with a bored expression.

‘Sickening.’ She mocked, kindly, and he closed the gap between them, watching the barrier flick up around his friends. Eleanor’s gaze met his briefly, a silent communication, the same promise that he had made to Gwaine. He’d come back for her.

‘No, I can’t…’ Mordred, who stepped through the barrier and to Merlin’s side, daring him to deny the Druid. He studied him, knew that this was Mordred’s way of making right everything he had done, of betraying Camelot all those many years ago.

‘Together, then.’ He concluded, and the Druid gave a nod. Eleanor didn’t argue, although he could see how she was dying to, and Morgana clapped her hands together.

‘This is going to be so much fun!’

**

The trio walked out into the little clearing in the centre of the valley, to where the water would rush in no more than a few minutes. Morgana cackled, tipped her head back and laughed.

‘Who’d have thought it, us three against the world, eh?’ She was joking, teasing Mordred, mostly, who looked absolutely terrified. He was still a child, Merlin reminded himself, had been but a boy when they had first met. How far he’d come, with so little teaching, and he only had himself to blame for that fact. When this was over, if they survived, Merlin would put in more effort for the Druid.

‘I did not think we would ever be united.’ Mordred replied, while Merlin risked a glance back to the ledge where the others were. He could make out the golden shimmer of the barrier, could see the huddled group of his closest friends and family. Gwaine, who he had to return to.

‘Is it not more poetic, this way.’ Morgana added, and Mordred looked at her like she was mad. But this wasn’t the madness that had come after her Magic had been revealed, this was the Morgana that he remembered. The one with a kind heart and a sharp tongue.

‘Are you sure you can do this?’ Mordred asked, especially when the noise began to pick up, a faint rumble that reminded the trio just how powerful this wave was. An act of the Gods, as they were nicknamed back in Camelot, waves that could only be driven by the anger of the deities.

‘Stay here.’ Merlin responded, putting a little distance between himself and the two others, but not far enough to miss Morgana’s words.

‘Of course he can. He’s no longer Merlin, the Warlock. He’s Emrys, the God.’

**

Morgana chuckled when she saw the fear on the Druid’s face, when his colour drained and his eyes rounded, to a look of naivety that reminded her of the young boy she’d tried to save.

‘Go, Mordred. Back to the group. You have nothing to prove to me, nor to Merlin.’ He hesitated, but she stepped closer, cupped his cheek and offered a smile. One of comfort, like she had when she’d smuggled him out, her heart aching at remembering that moment. Life had been so much more simple, then.

‘They forgive you, Mordred. And so do I.’ The boy turned, ran as fast as his legs could take him, and she watched. Knew that when he got to the group, he’d tell them who she was. If they hadn't figured it out already.

The barrier dimmed for a second, before the glow returned, and she could feel Mordred’s pain as he admitted her name to the group. Felt their horror, their gasps. The Witch just turned back to Merlin, who was beginning to glow again.

Emrys, child of the Gods, they called him. But, as the Witch walked to his side and slipped her hand into his, she knew he was so much more than that.

**

The wave stopped for nobody, rushing through the valley of the broken mountain, through the rubble and trees that stopped it from its final destination. It turned, onto the valley that the God stood in, waves reaching far higher than anyone could have anticipated. The Witch shuddered, gripped the hand she was holding tightly, before letting go. The glow did not harm her, sunlight passing straight over her and instead wrapping tighter around the duo.

It was loud, the rushing water, the rock that it carried from what remained of the God’s cell.

He’d been in the dark for so long, afraid and alone, until he realised that he didn’t need the sun to provide for him. That he could do it himself, far better than the burning ball in the sky could.

Merlin took a deep breath, a step forwards, and tipped his head to the skies.

The wave of energy, of heat more than anything he’d ever felt, burst free from his fingertips like a relief that he’d been waiting for, over a thousand years of pain and anguish. Everything he felt, since the loss of his Destiny back in Camelot. Poured out, into the open, racing away from the source like radiation.

And, from the gasp that came from the resurrected Witch behind him, she had been right all along.

A force so strong, that it would take a God to prevent it.

And a God, was what he was.


	10. A Witch, a Glowstick, and a big Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title says it all

Gwaine couldn’t breathe. It was… terrifying. A wall of golden, stretching up as high as he could see, with a torrent of stormy blue behind. It crashed against the wall, thrashed and snarled in the tight capture of sunlight, attempting to break free. Down on the grass, the source of the burning light, and by the side of it, a matching darkness.

‘Morgana…’ Mordred muttered, like Gwaine hadn't known, deep down, the identity of the woman. It was clearer to see now, where she stood by Merlin’s side, as sunlight burnt out across the space. To bright to stare at directly, and Gwaine was wondering what had happened to his boyfriend.

Then, the world shuddered. The ground trembled, and the water behind the barrier began to lower. The clouds above darkened, no doubt absorbing some of the water, whilst the sound from below their feet grew.

‘He’s splitting the Earth open.’ Eleanor whispered, dropping her own, meagre barrier, and Gwaine watched. It seemed to stretch on forever, cracks that ran through the ground, swelling as it filled with water. Behind him, Morgana was bending to touch the grass, Magic seeping out. Even Gwaine could feel it, thick and heavy, like a blanket that had descended over them.

Once the water was gone, the light burst out. He swore, ducked from the explosion, and when he rose, it was to a sight that was even more shocking than the one before.

A circle of light hovered over his head, like a halo, when Merlin turned from the valley that showed proof of the giant wave. Rocks, plants destroyed, hurled against a barrier made by a man that showed no signs of tiredness.

He ran. Ran from the ledge, down through the trees and in the direction of his boyfriend. Merlin saw him coming, but the light didn’t fade, it remained surrounding him like a protective bubble.

Gwaine threw himself at Merlin, uncaring of how desperate it may seem, pressing his lips to Merlin’s and marvelling in how warm he was, how he could feel the glow. It ended far too quickly, but Gwaine would have time to take Merlin back to his bed, to relearn all that he’d lost for so long. Merlin’s smile was brighter than ever, confidence that he hadn't seen in so long.

Unfortunately, not all was well amongst the group.

‘You.’ Hissed, by none other than Arthur, who lunged for his sister, a knife in his hand. And Merlin, who saw the threat and his eyes flashed gold.

‘Enough!’

**

It took Merlin a moment to understand what he had done, and when he did, he fell quite still. The knife had been aimed for Morgana’s chest, the Witch having drawn her hands up ready to defend herself, eyes showing the beginning of a golden tinge. Now, they shot to him, and Merlin looked back.

He’d frozen her. No, not just her. The entire group, unable to move, stuck in the position they had been when he’d shouted. Gwaine, staring up at him with eyes that darted from the frozen people, to him. It was creepy, how they stare, but could not move apart from that. The knife, in Arthur’s hand, that Merlin plucked quickly and vanished, then looked back to the group, that still did not move.

Merlin looked down to his hands, still shocked that he’d done such a thing. He then looked to Freya, but she was still as well, bright eyes staring right at him.

‘Incredibly done, Emrys.’ Merlin spun, to find a woman standing opposite him. She did not glow, nor did she look any different from any other person. Dark hair, warm brown eyes, a gown of green that hit the floor. Ink that spread up her arms, swirling beneath her skin.

He knew who she was, even though he’d never seen her before. Unsure of how to react, other than to fall to his knees and look up to the woman he prayed to, the Goddess herself, the embodiment of the Old Religion. He could not explain how he knew, but she radiated power, an ethereal feel that made him want to drop to her feet.

‘You know who I am, my child?’ She asked, used a finger to raise his chin. Merlin shuddered, kept still as she held him.

‘The Old Religion. The Goddess herself.’ He whispered, awed, and she chuckled.

‘Those are but titles. But the most important is the one that links me to you.’ Confused, went to ask, but found himself unable to speak.

‘You’re mine, Emrys. My child, and you’ve done so well. Beautifully, I’m so proud.’ She crouched down, to press a kiss to his forehead, and he stayed completely still.

‘This is the last spell, the one I was waiting for you to perform.’ She stood, her gown shifting as she admired the frozen people behind him. He stood, moved to stand between them, instinct driving him to protect his family. She ignored him, moved to Arthur’s side.

‘To freeze them?’ He questioned, watched as she rose a finger to Arthur’s cheek.

‘You didn’t freeze them, Emrys. You stopped the world itself. Stopped the ever-ticking time.’ He rocked back, shocked, his mind going blank. Stopped the entire world, stopped time itself? He couldn’t…

‘I must admit, I’m impressed. It took me a long, long time to even think of such a spell. Yet, you are a child of my Magic, I suppose I expected you to be strong. Bound by Destiny,’ She gave Arthur one last look, moved to Gwaine’s side,

‘Fuelled by love,’ A quick glance, then on to Freya,

‘A driver of those that were waiting for the last piece of fate,’ Merlin cried out as Freya vanished, crumbled beneath her touch, into dust on the floor. The Goddess moved on, like it did not matter that she had just crushed a woman without a single thought.

‘A father, to those of Magic.’ She finished, eyeing up Eleanor, whilst Merlin stared at the dust.

‘You killed her…’

‘Of course not. Arthur Pendragon killed her, a long time ago. Now, you can bring her back. You’re a God, Emrys, you could have anything you desire.’ He looked to the dust, reached out for it, and gasped when it began to bind together.

‘Your mind does what you ask, so you should be careful what you think.’ Merlin watched as the dust began to change, to form skin, to build back the body that had just been dropped. He stayed by her side, right till the bright eyes that blinked, looked to him in hope.

‘And I can have anything?’ Merlin asked, cradled Freya’s cheek before looking back to the woman, who was studying Morgana.

‘Anything you desire, my boy.’ The phrase hit him in the chest, a brief thought to Gaius, his long-ago mentor. The man that would have known exactly what to ask for. Merlin looked to Gwaine, to the eyes that he wished to see every day, for the rest of his life.

So, the answer was simple, in the end.

‘I want to be mortal.’


	11. Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana's being sweet, Merlin's got limitations

The Goddess cocked her head, as if she did not quite believe what he had said. But Merlin stood firm, repeated the sentence, and she regarded Gwaine, like she knew exactly why he had asked.

‘If that is your wish…’

‘It is.’ She sighed, but bowed her head in understanding.

‘Then you shall age as a mortal does. If you change your mind, you need only call for me, my son.’ And with that, he felt something hit his chest. He staggered, watched as the world began to move, saw Gwaine’s hands reaching out for him, but the world went black.

**

‘Honestly, we’re on the same side.’ Morgana mumbled, grimaced as the stick prodded her in the middle of her back, urging her to keep walking. Gwaine was carrying Merlin, who hadn't woken after chucking away his immortality due to his heart’s affection for the man. Freya and Arthur walked either side, like they would protect him, and Morgana found it amusing.

The Triple Goddess herself, personified into a woman that had offered Merlin anything. Had called him her child, and he had asked to be mortal. Perhaps Morgana had more to learn about this life, for she certainly had never met someone that she would be willing to sacrifice such a thing for.

‘Keep moving.’ Percival grunted out, and Morgana walked onwards. There were cuffs around her wrists, curtesy of Eleanor’s Magic, and her great, great, great (honestly she’d be going for a while if she listed them all) grand-niece glared across at her. Then there was the younger sibling, Alice, who she had inhabited before.

Mordred walked by Morgana’s side, having done well to stay out of all the conflict that had escalated as soon as Merlin collapsed.

‘Any change?’ Lancelot asked, peering across to Merlin’s pale form. Morgana could still see the power radiating from him, the gift of such unbelievable strength. If he chose to, he could be immortal again. She knew that it would be allowed, but somehow, watching how Gwaine cradled him so gently, she knew that Merlin would not opt for such a thing.

‘No. Can you see anything?’ Arthur asked Eleanor and Freya, and the latter sighed.

‘I’m completely human now. Not even a trace of Magic.’ Morgana had found it incredible to watch, Merlin bringing back a creature that had died so long ago, then been made-mystical by the Lake of Avalon. Now, however, she was correct. Human, nothing special about her, although Arthur seemed protective over her.

‘No. My Magic’s almost drained.’ Eleanor admitted, and Morgana snorted in amusement. That earned her another poke in the back, and she shot Percival a glare.

‘He’s alright. His Magic is still strong.’ Mordred stated, earning him some shocked glances. But nobody argued with him.

‘We should stop here for the night.’ Arthur had taken the role of leader, the group beginning to set up a Camp. Merlin was laid down, Gwaine’s jacket for a pillow, and Morgana sat down on a tree-stump as they moved around the clearing to collect things. Firewood, searching for water, discussing how much food they had.

Morgana watched all of this, while slowly shifting closer to the dozing Warlock. Once close enough, she reached out and brushed her fingers over his skin.

‘HEY!’ Arthur was moving towards them, but was cut off when Merlin woke, shooting upright and almost into Morgana. His gaze was golden, eyes focused on hers, and she placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Her other hand was forced to follow, considering the cuffs.

‘Easy, Emrys, you’re alright.’ Merlin blinked back the gold, focused on her for a moment, before looking around the group.

‘Where are we?’ His voice was hoarse, and Gwaine came rushing across with water to soothe. Morgana moved away, back to where Mordred was standing, as Arthur answered.

‘Still in the forest, making camp for the night.’ The Warlock blinked, then nodded, flicked a hand lazily and watched as the clearing changed.

Blankets appeared, a selection of food and some water bottles, the fire roaring to life before anyone else could think to light it.

‘Ow.’ He winced, raised a hand to his head, and Morgana snorted.

‘You’re mortal now, don’t over-exert your Magic.’ The headache had to be awful, she could see it in her eyes, and caught his pleading gaze staring at her.

Morgana dramatically sighed, stood and walked back to him, placing a hand on his forehead and muttering a healing spell.

He groaned, tipped his head into the touch, before slumping.

‘Thanks.’ He slurred, tired, and Morgana shrugged.

‘Sleep. You need the rest, I’ll keep watch.’ He seemed pleased by the suggestion, curled into Gwaine’s chest and promptly fell right back into sleep. The group around them had watched the interaction, confused, but Arthur’s glare told her she was not yet forgiven.

‘I still don’t like you.’ He remarked, and Morgana just rolled her eyes.

‘Evidently, there’s a group of you.’

**

Gwaine startled, rubbed sleep from his eyes and fell silent. Merlin was sprawled out on top of him, staring down with blue eyes that looked different, more human than normal.

‘Sorry, I just had to remind myself this was real.’ The dark, of course, he’d been trapped down there for so long. Gwaine wrapped an arm around his Warlock, pulled Merlin closer and tipped his head for a kiss, which was eagerly returned. Had they not been in the middle of the woods, Gwaine’s libido would have been guiding him to take it further.

‘You’re back. And you… you’re mortal.’ Gwaine choked on the word, remembered the feeling of being frozen, of watching Merlin’s wish. He could have had anything, yet he chose to grow old like Gwaine would. It brought tears to his eyes, and Merlin brushed them away quickly, nuzzling against him like a kitten.

‘I told you, I’d come back to you. Always, Gwaine.’ His Warlock, his Merlin, and the man dragged him down for another kiss. Merlin didn’t say anything about his ragged breath, or the tears that were still falling, or the slight shake in his hand as he held him tightly.

‘When we get back, I’m putting that ring on your finger.’ Merlin’s giggle was adorable, reminded him that he was still the same Merlin, even if he had stopped a Tsunami and was the son of a Goddess.

‘I’d like that.’ He whispered in return, Gwaine rewarding him with a kiss to his nose.

‘A normal life.’ Gwaine mused aloud, and Merlin snickered softly.

‘Hardly normal. A druid, a group of once-dead Knights, a Lady of the Lake now human, two sorceress’, a Witch and a Warlock.’ That reminded Gwaine of the fact that Morgana was with them, glanced across to where she was asleep, propped against a tree with her hands cuffed.

‘Not now, we can talk about this in the morning.’ Merlin stated, but Gwaine didn’t need to ask questions. He could imagine how lonely it had been, and if Morgana had helped him escape, then he could appreciate the Witch’s help.

‘And then fly back, because I’m missing our bed.’ He added a wink at the end, just to see Merlin’s shy blush, and the way his eyes flicked down to his lips.

‘So am I.’ He admitted, and Gwaine kissed his forehead before settling back against the ground.


	12. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's home

Merlin could feel it, the power that he could have had, the strength that had retreated to his bones and did not attempt to resurface. This was how it was supposed to be, he told himself, even if he momentarily longed for the warmth that had gone. He did not call it forwards, told it to stay away, despite the slight pang of longing that came with it.

It went away, as soon as he looked across to his boyfriend, who was standing at the entrance to their home, chatting to Arthur. Freya was with them, having been offered a trip to Scotland, along with the once-King, to hunt down some new children that had been gifted the power of Magic. Merlin could only watch in amusement, fondness, as his family settled back into the life they had been gifted.

By his side, Morgana looked out to the home, then across to him.

‘Surely you don’t expect me to live here? I’d be murdered in my sleep.’ As tempting as that was, Merlin hadn't brought her back just to be killed. He looked across to the Witch, who seemed so young compared to him, despite the fact that they had been the same age back in Camelot.

‘Of course not. You’re going to explore the world, and make a name for yourself.’ Just like she’d always wanted, an empire of her own, a chance to explore this planet with just her Magic by her side. Morgana shrugged, looked back to the trio on the doorstep with something that almost resembled longing. Like him, Merlin thought, both wanting things that they could not have.

‘That’s what I want.’ She said firmly, although he suspected she was attempting to assure herself of that fact. Was it her brother she was staring at, wishing to build back a bridge between them? Or the easy familiarity between the group, the trust and respect that kept them together.

‘You can always call me, if you require.’ Merlin added, knowing that, despite all the people in this group, Morgana would always be the one that understood his plight of Magic the most. The one that understood what it was like, to crave the warmth that it built inside.

‘And, should you change your mind about mortality…’ She halted, looking up to him with the offer that he’d already thought about.

‘We could live on this world together, Merlin. Magic by our sides, each other’s company to ground us.’ All the power he’d been gifted, and he’d asked for mortality. Morgana was right, it was tempting, to live his life to the full, then return back to his normal age once everyone he loved had passed, to go back to being the immortal of the land. But this time, he’d have a friend by his side.

‘If I told you I’d consider it?’ Morgana chuckled, leant up to press a brief kiss to his cheek.

‘That’s all I ask.’ He wished he could say more, but the Witch was already gone, stealing his energy to teleport away from the home.

‘Everything okay?’ Gwaine asked, appearing by his side with a small frown, and Merlin turned his longing into a smile. Reached out, entwined their fingers, and beamed up to him.

‘Of course.’

**

Back in their room, Merlin’s thighs wrapped around his waist and hot lips pressed to his, Gwaine was struggling to remember why he hadn't wanted to throw the Warlock down onto the bed and ravage him. But it was hard, Merlin was so damn tempting, and it had been far too long since he’d had the sorcerer wrapped up in his arms.

‘Wait, wait.’ Merlin pouted, lips swollen and downright sinful, but took a seat on the edge of the bed whilst Gwaine knelt down to unlace his boots.

‘Waiting, what for?’ The Warlock groaned, chasing after his lips while Gwaine laughed, pulled back and bopped him on the nose.

‘For this.’ He reached into his pocket, pulled out the small box and halted.

Merlin’s eyes widened, and even from here, Gwaine heard the way he swallowed. Remaining on the floor, kneeling between his spread legs, he flipped open the box. How many times had he done this, sitting alone in the room, wishing he’d done it sooner? But now it was happening, and he was more terrified than he’d ever thought he could be.

‘Merlin, I’ve been waiting for a very long time to ask you this question, and I…’ He grunted as the Warlock leapt on him, straddling his lap quickly and silencing him with a kiss, full of the hunger and desperation that he’d felt for all this time alone.

‘Yes.’ He murmured, when their lips were just hovering apart, foreheads pressed together.

‘You didn’t let me finish.’ Gwaine remarked, before licking at his lips and sucking, nipping at his delicious mouth while Merlin wrapped around him like a limpet.

‘You don’t need to. The answer will always be yes.’ Merlin stated once they’d pulled apart, Gwaine taking his hand and snatching the ring, sliding it into place.

‘I’m never taking this off.’ Merlin said with fascination, staring down at the ring, and Gwaine grinned.

‘I’m glad you like it.’ Merlin stole his hand, rose it to his lips and kissed his knuckles, and when Gwaine looked down, a band of gold had wrapped around his own finger.

‘Magic has its perks.’ He stated hoarsely, trying not to let the emotion cloud the sentence, and failing drastically.

‘It does.’ The Warlock agreed, before dragging him back to the bed.

**

‘GWAINE!’ The man jumped, rolled, fell from the bed in a mess of sheets. It had been two months since Merlin had said yes, and he’d just about managed to stop the nightmares of losing Merlin. So, waking to him screaming was terrifying.

Merlin was in the bathroom, and Gwaine skidded in, buck naked, staring at the Warlock. Merlin spun, tears in his eyes, but a happy, unsure smile on his face.

He walked towards him, let Merlin’s arms wrap around him and kisses assure him that he was okay.

‘What’s wrong?’ Gwaine mumbled, before Merlin stepped back and tilted his head, showing off his dark, curly hair. For a moment, he was confused, until he caught sight of what had panicked Merlin so much.

On the top of his head, nestled into the black softness, a singular grey hair.

When Merlin looked back up, watery eyes and adoration seeping out, Gwaine could do nothing but clutch at him.

His Warlock, who’d given up so much just to grow old with him. And Gwaine found himself tearing up, pressed kisses all over Merlin’s face while he laughed and batted him away.

‘You’re sure about this?’ Gwaine asked, and found no hesitation with Merlin’s honest smile.

‘I want this. I want you.’

Well, who was he to argue with such a thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bam! The end! Until I get really stressed about Morgana and decide to give her a story of her own


End file.
